


from the heart and from the bone

by lilithqueen



Category: Obsidian and Blood - Aliette de Bodard
Genre: Breaking Celibacy Vows, Clothed Sex, Discussion of Infidelity, First Kiss, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Morning After, Nightmares, Pining, Post-Canon, mentioned Teomitl/Mihmatini
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithqueen/pseuds/lilithqueen
Summary: They're on the road out of Texcoco, chasing a sorcerer, when they stop to rest. Nights are colder once you're away from the lake, but at least they stay warm in each other's arms. Very, very warm.(And then Teomitl has a nightmare, and Acatl discovers a way to get him back to sleep again.)
Relationships: Acatl/Teomitl (Obsidian and Blood)





	from the heart and from the bone

**Author's Note:**

> title: [the road home - heart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9l53FlH5gJo)

The problem with leaving the lake far behind you, Acatl reflected, was that even if you _knew_ it would be much hotter during the day and much colder at night, that didn’t prepare you for the reality of _experiencing_ it. All day he and Teomitl had walked under a sun that turned the air into the inside of an oven, following a thin and stinging trail of magic out of Texcoco, off the main roads, and into the hills in pursuit of a vicious sorcerer. Heat had sapped his strength until he stumbled, and even Teomitl’s usual purposeful stride had slowed to a grim trudge. It had made them both snappish, too; Teomitl had been communicating solely in grunts and vague grumbles for the past half-mile, which at least was better than arguing. But his mood improved as the sun inched towards the horizon, and accordingly Acatl started to feel a bit better about their journey as well. Exhausted, but better.

And then night had well and truly fallen, and the temperature went from blistering to bracing to  _godsdamned freezing._ He had wrapped his cloak tighter and kept walking, trying to ignore the shaking in his limbs, but after the third time he’d tripped—over  _nothing_ —Teomitl had taken a long look at him in the moonlight and called a halt. 

“We need to rest. At least for a few hours.”

His first thought was to argue— _I don’t need you to mother me, Teomitl_ danced dangerously on the tip of his tongue—but when he blinked he discovered that his eyelids very much wanted to stay closed, actually, and it took real effort to force them open again. “...Fine.” At least it would give him a chance to shake the pebble that had been tormenting him out of his sandal.

Their stopping place turned out to be a rocky bit of ground, with the flattest spot between the spreading roots of a twisted pine tree. He let himself be steered towards it; when he finally sat down, head resting against the bark, he couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped him. Teomitl, hearing it, smiled. “See, Acatl, isn’t that better?”

It was light and teasing, but the flip in his stomach had nothing to do with annoyance. Teomitl had been calling him  _Acatl_ more and more since that day on the temple steps, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It was good to be on equal footing—it made something unknot itself in his gut every time he imagined Teomitl, crowned, calling him gently by name—but then Teomitl smiled like  _that_ while saying it and it never failed to remind him of all the things he couldn’t have. It was possible, after all, to be too close.

He was grateful now for the darkness that hid his blush. “...Hm. Where are you resting, then?”

Teomitl looked around, shrugged, and sat down with his back against a crumbling boulder. “It looks like a comfortable rock.” 

Despite himself, he managed to smile. The day when Teomitl had walked him back home after Axayacatl’s death felt like an eternity ago. “At least you don’t have any imperial finery to ruin now.”

“Mm-hmm.” He could hear the amusement—and the muffled yawn—in Teomitl’s voice, and it warmed his heart. “Go to sleep.”

Sleep was starting to sound increasingly tempting.  _Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a moment. We can keep going at midnight._ Teomitl was right, anyway; they would be in no fit shape to even  _find_ their quarry without rest, never mind fight him.  _Maybe he’s finally starting to understand limits. Unlikelier things have happened._

He breathed in the scent of crushed pine needles, remembering the last time he and Teomitl had traveled together. Then, they had been on the way to Teotihuacan on the trail of star-demons; he’d still been half-reeling over how close he’d come to death at Quenami’s hands and trying desperately to keep his student from overextending himself. Now Teomitl was no longer his student, no longer quite so reckless, and they were no longer staring down quite so dire a threat. It was almost relaxing, honestly. 

Except for the weather. The night wind picked up, and he shivered and pulled his cloak closer around his body.  _I’ve slept in worse. This should be no hardship._

And it wasn’t—at first. True, it was cold, but loosening his hair and letting it fall over his shoulders provided some protection from the wind; it was a trick that worked much better when your hair was reasonably clean, and he allowed himself a moment of smugness that Acamapichtli, who unlike him had managed to grow his blood-matted hair all the way down to his feet, would never be able to manage it. But the wind found his exposed skin anyway, just when he thought he was finally drifting off, until finally he found himself staring into the night sky and grimly thinking  _Duality, I should have brought an extra cloak._

Movement from Teomitl’s position caught his eye. Acatl glanced over to see him uncurl himself and shuffle towards the tree, looking as tired and cold as he felt. “Acatl?”

“Mm?” As he blinked up at him he realized Teomitl was coming closer; but the why of it was refusing to come together in his mind. _Oh. He can’t mean to—_

He did. “There’s no point in both of us being cold, is there?”

Acatl took a slow breath. They would be warmer, that was true, but the images that his mind conjured up did not suggest it would be particularly restful for him.  _Some sleep is better than none at all. I can bear this. I will bear this._ Before he knew it, he was shifting over to make room and opening his cloak to help cover them both. There was space for two between the tree’s roots if they huddled close. 

Teomitl wasted no time doing exactly that. Indeed, he nestled into Acatl’s side as though he belonged there, stretching half of his own cloak across Acatl’s chest. Though his fingers were cold, that wasn’t what made Acatl shiver; no, that honor belonged to Teomitl’s voice, the barest whisper in his ear. “ _Now_ let’s sleep.”

He made a noise he was not going to call a squeak. Now that they were pressed so closely together, he had absolutely no idea what to do with his limbs. Abruptly revitalized blood was flowing to places that it really, really didn’t need to be.  _How am I going to sleep like this? How can I ever sleep again?_ “I—“

Teomitl  _nuzzled_ —there was no other word for it—into him. “You can put your arm around me. I don’t mind.” He sounded sleepily amused; if it hadn’t been impossible, Acatl would have said he sounded smug.

_I don’t mind, he says. Maybe I do. Maybe you are dealing with a man, Teomitl, and not a statue._ But saying that would be worse than useless, and so he said nothing. Carefully, his arm came to rest around Teomitl’s waist under their cloaks; it seemed the most natural, innocent position for it. Teomitl let out a little sigh and shifted downwards, dropping his head onto his shoulder. When he felt lips press against his skin through the fall of his hair, his heart skipped a beat.  _Sleep. Right._ He was hyper-aware of Teomitl’s warm skin, his solid muscles—even the way his hair, at an awkward length where it wasn’t quite long enough yet to brush back into a noble hairstyle, kept tickling his nose. If he dared, he could bury his hands or his face in that hair, could slide his hand up Teomitl’s back, could tilt Teomitl’s head up and—

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. In. Out. In again. The emptiness of Mictlan chilled his veins. If he focused on that and  _only_ that, it was almost possible to ignore the way Teomitl’s thigh pressed against his. And he  _was_ exhausted; as their shared body heat warmed the air under their cloaks, it was easier to give into it. They were holding each other, but that meant nothing. In the morning they would separate, adjust their cloaks, and keep walking. They’d never mention this again.

On that comforting thought, he tugged Teomitl a little closer and drifted off to sleep.

&

His dreams were vaguely unpleasant—dead things with too many eyes, Mihmatini with a snarl on her face and a knife in her hand—but when he stirred back to consciousness they scattered like leaves on the wind. No light penetrated his closed eyelids, and for a confused heartbeat he couldn’t think what had woken him.

And then Teomitl whimpered, digging his fingers roughly into his shoulder, and he realized that the racing heartbeat he felt wasn’t his own. With effort he opened his eyes and sucked in a breath, hearing his own voice as a too-loud hiss as he whispered, “Teomitl?”

An incoherent mumble, and then—“No, wake up, don’t  _leave_ me…”

The inside of his throat felt like ice. The last time he’d heard Teomitl’s voice like that, all despairing terror, had been his illness— _but,_ he thought, _surely he’s healthy now?_ _Or does he always suffer like this in his sleep?_ It wasn’t at all unknown among warriors, but the idea of Teomitl’s dreams tormented by the screams of injured men and the silence of the dead made his heart ache. _I need to wake him—_ But Teomitl rolled and kicked out, driving a knee into his hip, and the words he’d planned came out as a pained grunt instead.

And Teomitl didn’t wake. In the dappled moonlight, Acatl could make out the unhappy scrunch of his closed eyelids; when his mumbling coalesced into words again, each one was a knife in his heart. He was shaking so badly that even his voice trembled. “ _Acatl._ Acatl...not allowed…”

_He dreams about me. He dreams about me, and he sounds like his heart is breaking._ He swallowed, barely trusting his own voice. “Teomitl. Wake up.”

“Mwuh?” Teomitl’s face upon waking was a sight that would melt a stone, with one eye half-lidded and his hair and eyebrows sticking up every which way. Then he blinked for a moment, suddenly-alert gaze darting around like a dragonfly, and the spell was broken. The tension running through his body was making him vibrate like a plucked bowstring. “Acatl-tzin? What’s the matter?”

Acatl met his eyes and found them dark and troubled. “...You were having a nightmare.” As he said it, he realized first that his arm was still around Teomitl’s waist—how he could have forgotten, he had no idea—and second that there was absolutely no power in the Fifth World that could remove it short of Teomitl himself. Not when Teomitl might need him.

Teomitl frowned, plainly displeased by the answer. “...Oh.” 

It was foolish to bring it up. He knew it was foolish even as he said it, knew that Teomitl would probably snarl at him for it. But that voice had been filled with so much  _despair,_ and he needed to know why. “You said my name.”

“I…” Teomitl took a slow breath, dropping his gaze to Acatl’s collarbone. He was still shivering.

If he’d been dealing with one of his nieces or nephews, he would have asked if he wanted to talk about it. If he’d been dealing with a troubled calmecac student, he would have busied himself with something unimportant in his line of sight until he felt like unburdening his heart. But he was dealing with Teomitl, and so he waited in silence. Teomitl would tell him or he would not, but Acatl wouldn’t force him.

Teomitl didn’t make him wait long. His voice held the careful precision of a man slotting feathers into a shield, but each word trembled. “I dreamt you were—not dead. Death would have been a kindness. You had no breath, no pulse, no life, but your souls were still in there. Trapped. And I couldn’t—you weren’t _there._ I need you so much, and _you weren’t there.”_ The hand still resting on Acatl’s shoulder slowly slid down over his heart. He didn’t raise his eyes.

The words felt like stones on Acatl’s heart, and for a moment all he could do was breathe.  _Oh, my Teomitl._

The worst of it was, there was nothing he could do. So far as he knew, there were no spells against nightmares that actually worked; the only one that he knew of had a tendency to make you dream about being chased by living gourds instead, which was less personal but not actually any better. Helpless, he cupped Teomitl’s cheek. “I’m here now.”

Teomitl lifted his head and looked into his eyes, and for a brief moment Acatl registered only how soft the skin under his fingertips was. “Are you?”

He trailed his fingers down over Teomitl’s jaw to the back of his neck, watching the way his tremors ebbed into a very different kind of shiver. When he buried his fingers lightly in his hair, he was rewarded with the sight of Teomitl’s eyes going even darker. He’d never taken peyote, but he imagined it would feel something like this—disconnected, dreamlike, the air hazy around them. He could barely speak. “I am.”  _I promise. I’ll be with you forever._

They were so close. Teomitl’s lips were parted; he licked his own, feeling how dry they were, and saw a sharp gaze flick to his tongue. It would take such a small motion for him to close the distance, if he was brave enough. He knew he wasn’t.

But Teomitl was.

Acatl’s first kiss was soft, gentle, and absolutely devastating. Teomitl’s lips were warm and careful against his own, kissing him like something too fragile to touch; when Acatl made a sound against him, he drew back. For a moment, he looked as though he was about to speak. 

Before he could, Acatl kissed him back. It was clumsy and imperfect, but that didn’t matter; Teomitl was deepening it with a hungry little growl, one hand tangling in his hair, and when Acatl’s arm tightened around him he actually  _moaned._ It sent a jolt straight to his cock; for the span of a heartbeat, he had to pull away to breathe. His skin felt like it was on fire, and he couldn’t remember having ever been cold.

“ _Acatl.”_ Teomitl sounded ragged, desperate, and before Acatl had entirely gotten his breath back he found himself biting back a gasp as Teomitl lowered his head to kiss along the side of his neck. Like this, with one of Teomitl’s hands in his hair and the other sliding down over his chest, he was entirely at his mercy. His world narrowed down to the wet heat of Teomitl’s mouth, the faint scrape of teeth suggesting he might bite. It was _exhilarating_ ; if not for the danger of carrying sound in the wilderness, he might have begged for more. 

And then Teomitl found a bundle of nerves just at the junction of neck and shoulder and mouthed at it hard enough to bruise, and he couldn’t muffle the cry that escaped him. “Ah—!” When he did it again, all he could do was shudder and splay his hand against Teomitl’s back, speechless at the heat coiling through his veins. It was almost too much, but he never wanted it to stop. “Please—“

Teomitl lifted his head with a slow, wicked smile, and that really couldn’t be borne. Acatl had to kiss it, and this time he resolved to be bold. It was much easier this time, with the way Teomitl arched against him and gasped into his mouth; the noise he made when Acatl tugged his hair was downright electrifying. When they broke apart, his voice was almost a sigh. “Mm...Acatl…”

_I’m making him sound like that._ It was a heady rush, but he barely had a moment to let it sink in before Teomitl’s mouth was on his again; the sensation of his lower lip caught lightly in sharp teeth, just for a moment, was enough to make him shudder. And then the hand that had been resting almost innocently on his chest slid down over his stomach, nails scratching gently, and the shudder turned into a near-involuntary roll of his hips. “Ah…”

In between feather-light kisses—to his face, his neck, his bare shoulder—Teomitl breathed, “Been wanting to do this for ages—can I…?” Fingers grazed the tented bulge in his loincloth, maddeningly light, and he sucked in a breath at even that little bit of friction. 

_Gods, yes, please._ He nodded frantically, and Teomitl _grinned._ The flash of teeth in the darkness was all the warning he had before a warm hand closed around his cock, stroking him through the thin fabric, and even when he tried he couldn’t stop a whine from escaping. “Nnh…” For a breathless moment all he could think about was rocking into that touch, sure that nothing in his life had ever come close to this.

Then he bucked his hips and Teomitl’s breath caught, and he knew there was something better. The next stroke was a slow upward slide, thumb circling around the head, and he had to kiss him to muffle a truly undignified noise. Teomitl huffed out a little laugh that turned into a moan when Acatl broke away to mouth at a sensitive spot just under his ear. “Gods, you feel so  _good_ in my hands.”

_I want to touch you too,_ he thought dizzily—but it was harder to focus through pleasure than pain, so it was only with effort that he managed to slide his hand between them, fumbling fingers catching at Teomitl’s ribs and thigh and the curve of his hipbone before settling over his loincloth and feeling hard flesh twitch into his touch.  _Gods, I want—_

He didn’t need to ask; Teomitl was already wriggling closer, and the angle was strange on another man but when he pumped him slowly he was rewarded with a _delicious_ groan. _“More.”_ He sounded breathless already; the part of Acatl’s mind still capable of any thought marveled that _he_ was the one who’d done that to him, but the rest of him had better things to focus on.

Like the feel of Teomitl’s cock in his hand, hard and heavy and so _hot_ even through his loincloth. He wanted to see, but even tugging the cloth aside would mean stopping what he was doing, and that was clearly impossible. Especially with Teomitl’s little panting breaths in his ear when he sped up and squeezed just a fraction harder, the kind of noises that made Acatl almost want to hear him scream.

With the way Teomitl was working him over in return, he thought he might break first. The movement of that wonderful hand was enough to contend with, but then Teomitl turned his head to nuzzle blindly into his neck and—oh, _there_ were those teeth. It pulled a shaky moan out of him as he arched his back, baring his throat for more. Teomitl didn’t need to be told; his fingers rippled hard as he sucked bruises into Acatl’s skin, and as the steadily building heat coiling low in his core threatened to overflow he managed to gasp, “Teo—“

“Hmm?” Teomitl pulled back to look up at him; even in the dark, he could see his smile.

It made him feel reckless; he had a moment of satisfaction at the way Teomitl’s eyes widened when he shifted his grip, the way his jaw fell open when Acatl worked his wrist at a slightly different angle. But he didn’t have long to revel in it, because then Teomitl’s mouth was on his in a ferocious kiss and that hand _squeezed_ and he was falling apart with a shock like an earthquake, tremors racing through his veins as he came.

_Oh. Oh, Duality._ For a long moment, that was his only coherent thought. He was glad Teomitl was still kissing him like he might die if he stopped; he was sure whatever noises he’d be making otherwise would be downright obscene. It seemed to take an age for him to come back to himself, but then Teomitl pulled away with his mouth wet and his eyes hungry and he realized he’d still left something undone. Teomitl’s cock still throbbed in his loosened grasp, and that couldn’t be allowed to stand. “Mmm.”

Teomitl sucked in a breath, but whatever he was about to say came out as a ragged groan as Acatl took him in hand again. He seemed to be beyond speech, dropping his head onto Acatl’s shoulder and letting out shaky little whimpers against his skin that set his heated blood to pounding again. Acatl was suddenly glad he was spent for the moment; Teomitl’s reactions were distracting enough as they were, and the man deserved all his focus. This way, too, it was easier to revel in each hitched gasp and bone-deep tremor. Teomitl turned out to be incredibly responsive to the right stimuli; when Acatl’s hand slid upwards one final time he came with a drawn-out groan, hips jolting as though to chase that sensation as his cock pulsed. He couldn’t resist the urge to keep touching him, not until Teomitl’s voice caught on a near-whine of, “Acatl—nngh…”

He withdrew his hand and wiped damp fingers on his thigh, realizing as he did so that he was cold again. Their cloaks had pooled on the ground around them at some point, and the rapidly drying sweat on his skin reminded him of the night air they’d been trying to avoid. But Teomitl was in his arms like a burning brand, shifting to bury his face in his hair, and it kept the chill at bay. Acatl stroked his spine and felt him relax at the touch, a single thought coalescing out of the fog in his mind.  _I love you._

Teomitl’s murmur broke the silence. “I...I think...I can get back to sleep now.”

“Sleep.” His own limbs felt like stone as his racing pulse slowed; he barely had the energy to wrap their cloaks around them again. Somehow he managed it, and then he tucked his head against Teomitl’s and thought of absolutely nothing for a long time.

&

When next he opened his eyes, it was just past dawn. The sun hadn’t been up long enough to turn their surroundings into an oven yet, but he was still sticky, rather itchy, and almost too warm. He shifted, feeling the weight of two cloaks and Teomitl’s arm on top of him, and for the space of a good ten heartbeats he couldn’t remember why he’d thought that was a sensible idea. _Right. It was cold...last night…_

Memories struck one after the other, unforgiving as hail. Teomitl’s nightmare, confessed in the barest, bitterest whisper. The love rising in his heart like a flood. One kiss, and then another. And another.

The way Teomitl had touched him. The way—gods, the way he’d _responded._

For a moment, he thought he was going to be sick. He swallowed down a spike of nausea, squeezing his eyes shut as though that would keep him from remembering any more. It was useless; Teomitl’s head was on his shoulder, breath warm on his skin, and all he could think of was the way that breath had came out in an intoxicating near-sob of pleasure. When he risked turning his head, a faint twinge reminded him of Teomitl’s teeth, how the mix of pleasure and pain had turned him wanton and desperate for more.

He took a long, slow breath, counted to ten, and let it out again.  _What was I thinking? Duality, what I did—what we did, together—I cannot believe—!_ His heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest.  _Teomitl was the one to make the first move, true, but I—he’s my brother-in-law! Mihmatini loves him! This will break her heart, and I…_

And he hadn’t thought about her at all. Then again, last night he hadn’t been thinking about much of anything if it didn’t relate somehow to Teomitl’s mouth, Teomitl’s voice, the things Teomitl had been doing with his _hands_ —gods, it was enough to make him flush with heat all over again. He shook his head, shuddering, and firmly banished the images from his mind. They’d made a terrible mistake. They’d talk about it like adults, and then agree never to do it again. He could handle heartbreak.

Teomitl stirred and stretched like a jaguar, letting out a jaw-cracking yawn as he blinked awake. “Mmm…”

He felt hollowed out, his heart replaced with ice. “Teomitl.”

The smile that had been starting to unfurl across Teomitl’s face vanished at his tone, and Acatl saw the exact moment he recalled what they’d done. He sat back, face flushed, and couldn’t quite seem to meet his eyes as he muttered, “Good morning.”

He didn’t know what to say in return. Rather than being the first one to bring it up, he stood and tied his cloak over his shoulder again, trying not to look at his own hands. The smooth cotton of their clothing reminded him too much of the heavy weight of Teomitl’s cock in his hand. His own flesh itched unpleasantly, and he hoped that their trek would take them near water. Surely the sorcerer couldn’t have gotten that far?

He cast out his priest-senses. No, the trail was still as clear as it had been the night before. Beside him Teomitl was dressing as well, and with his face turned away Acatl could make out the shadow of a mark below his ear. Desire and shame warred in his gut, and he had to close his eyes again.

And then he opened them. There was no use letting it fester. “About last night.“

Teomitl went very, very still. Then he lifted his head and turned back towards him. His face looked like it was carved from stone, but Acatl’s gaze dropped to his hands and saw how he clenched them into fists to stop them shaking. “I don’t regret it. I’m sorry, but I don’t. I can’t.”

He sucked in a breath that scorched his lungs, feeling his own fists clench. “I’ve misjudged you, then. I thought you a man of honor, a man who would stand by the vows you made to  _my sister_ —or at least be properly ashamed of having broken them in a moment of weakness.”  _Gods, she’ll be furious. Worse—heartbroken. And she’d have every right to be, after how we betrayed her._

Teomitl flinched, going a truly impressive shade of red. “Is that what you call what we did? A moment of weakness? Because I remember very well how you acted last night, and I definitely wasn’t the only one being  _weak.”_

_He’s right._ It was going to be impossible for him to ever forget how he’d gone to pieces under Teomitl’s ministrations. Shame threatened to choke him, and he had to force the words out around it. “That doesn’t mean—I know I’m weak, but you...Teomitl, you are a married man! Mihmatini _loves_ you. How could you do this to her?”

“Me?” Teomitl snorted. “She might still love me, but not in the way you’re thinking. Not since—well, _you_ remember.”

The courtyard. Teomitl’s assembled warriors. Mihmatini with knives in her bloodied hands, ready to fight her own husband if he took one more step forward. Yes, Acatl remembered. Something in his heart twisted with a horrible mix of agony and sick, shameful hope. “Is there truly such a rift between you?”

“…” He was silent for a moment, but then he blew out a breath and shook his head. “We are...good friends, still. And I love her _as_ a friend. I’ll gladly do my duty as her husband. But we spoke, after all that, and she asked me what had turned me so firmly against Tizoc in the first place. And I told her the truth, Acatl-tzin.” He met Acatl’s eyes, steady and serious. “I told her that it had nothing to do with his actions as Revered Speaker. The day I vowed to destroy him was the day he tried to have you slain.”

He couldn’t breathe. “Teomitl—“

Teomitl took a deep breath, dropping his gaze. “Anyway. We sort of bonded again over that, and...she’s very perceptive, you know that. It was easy for her to see who I was in love with.”

 _What._ “You— _what_ _?!”_ It came out in a strangled-parrot squawk.

Teomitl fidgeted, running a hand through his hair and somehow making it messier. “I think she knew for a long time, actually. I swear to you, I would never have gone behind her back—I would have taken it to my grave if it grieved her. But...well. She approves.” He was blushing again. Acatl almost hated how much it made his heart melt. “She...she told me, before we left, that I should...ah, take advantage of our time alone together. But I don’t think she expected this! _I_ certainly did not.”

It was almost too much to handle at once. He had to set a hand on his knife hilt for a moment, letting Mictlan scour his heart until he could think again. _She knows about him. She suspected my own feelings, at least enough to encourage him to speak. And…_ He took a slow breath. _He loves me._ Now that he thought about it, he recalled Mihmatini pulling her husband aside to whisper something in his ear; he hadn’t been able to make out the words, but he thought back to how Teomitl’s face had flushed and kicked himself for not having asked sooner. “Neither...neither did I.”

Teomitl closed his eyes, looking pained, but when he opened them again his gaze was clear. “Acatl-tzin, I wish to apologize. I know this must be...uncomfortable for you. I won’t press my affections where they aren’t wanted—“

For once in his life Acatl’s tongue obeyed him, and he managed to blurt out, “I didn’t say that,” through what felt like his entire heart lodged in his throat. As Teomitl stepped back, eyes wide, he found words tumbling over each other in their haste to get out into the open air. “I’m not uncomfortable, I was never _uncomfortable,_ your feelings are—Teomitl, I never thought I could ever _have_ any of this!” _Never. You were too young, too brilliant, too far above me, and then you were marrying Mihmatini and gods, it was safer to bury it, but now you stand here and you tell me this…!_

Teomitl was still staring at him. Hesitantly, he took a step forward. “...But it’s something you want?”

“ _Yes.”_ Here in this moment all he had was the truth, even if saying it flayed him raw. _I want you. I need you. I can’t regret last night either, not if this is how we got here._

Teomitl flung himself into his arms.  He’d been half expecting it, but it still managed to take him by surprise; he found himself frozen for a moment before wrapping his arms around him in return. Even last night, they hadn’t been this close—chest to chest, he could feel Teomitl’s heartbeat like it was his own,  could feel all the strength in his arms anchoring him to the earth. Teomitl  buried his face in his cloak, breathing in slowly.

T hen he lifted his head, and all Acatl could do was kiss him.  It was different in daylight, with his mind clear; he could focus on the shape of Teomitl’s mouth and the way he sighed, soft and melting, when Acatl reached up to smooth a thumb along his cheekbone. “ I love you.” It slipped out easily, without thought, in the heartbeat between one kiss and the next, and saying it aloud eased the tension in his  chest . Teomitl made that next kiss hungry, and it was some time before he managed, “I cannot believe you love me  _back.”_

Teomitl flushed, which was absolutely adorable. “This wasn’t how I was going to tell you,” he muttered. “Tlaloc’s lightning strike me, I had _plans.”_

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Mm. You’ll have to share them with me later.”

“I will.” His answering smirk was wicked, and Acatl remembered his talented hands with a shiver of faint arousal—but then his stomach growled, and he stepped back with a huff and a muttered, “When we get back.”

Right. It was easier to remember their mission now, with Teomitl not actively touching him. Still, Acatl had to take several deep breaths to center himself before checking his pack for day-old flatbread to break their fast with, only belatedly remembering to shed blood for the Sun and his patron. They had a sorcerer to hunt; it would be at least another half day, over hard ground, by the time they tracked him down. And when they returned…

When they returned, he was sure they’d continue where they’d left off. He was looking forward to it already.

**Author's Note:**

> when they get back to tenochtitlan, acatl's def like "mihmatini do you REALLY--" and she cuts him off with "i will approve of anything you do with him as long as i no longer have to sit here WATCHING you two PINE"
> 
> acatl, who knew he was pining but deadass thought he was being subtle about it: "O/////O"
> 
> teomitl: "i did warn you she was observant"
> 
> wanna yell about obsblood? come hit me up on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ship_to_hell/) or [tumblr](https://notapaladin.tumblr.com/)!


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